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On an early summer walk

Along an old country road

I did not chance to notice

How she had planted wildflowers

In a corner of her field.



The field ran on, unscythed

Tall with the monotony of green

Upon green

Yet here, waiting for its moment

Were pinks and whites and

sun coloured flowers

That bide their time, as do I

For I know the road goes on

And only is the advance brought on

By the slow and steady gait.

In time I be at this road's end

And these, her hands have placed,

Will surely dot her green.



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Oh what beauty her verdant hills in springtime must give

Released from the shroud of winter.

And too the infant leaves on the clump of trees

Not far from her window must fairly

Bring life upon her shore.

Of all the visions I have seen

None has moved me more.



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Out on the country way,

That rutted, little used road,

Stands the same house

I passed before,

White frame then and open door

Bare gray wood now with door shut tight

Against the day as well as night.

As far as I know

No one notices it much.



They bought it back in forty-six

In youth with youthful dreams

They did quite well, those two,

Alone.

All those years alone.

When he passed away she buried him

Alone.

As far as I know

No one noticed much.



The county moved the road

But left the country way

Unpaved

Alone.

She's alone

In her garden, feeding chickens,

In the graying house

With door shut tight.

As far as I know

No one cares to notice



I knocked upon the door one morning

And didn't have cause to leave

Until the sun touched the western hill.

While I was there

No on one noticed the loneliness

Not I

Nor she

Nor anyone.



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A thousand times a thousand steps

I've walked this country road

In springs soft rains and summer's breeze

And deep in winter's cold.



Past fields of corn and pastures green

And rusting automobiles

Past bluebirds perching on a fence

And the crests of rolling hills.



I've rested 'neith the sycamore

That stood beside the stream

And saw the autumn sunshine glow

Golden through its steam.



Past ladies hanging laundry out

And men before the plow

Past children picking berries

And nature showing how



I should walk on with open eyes

And freedom in my gait

To understand the country road

And what it does create.



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